The Land Of Mist pcs-3 Read online

  «I should like to test you. I have a letter here which I received this morning. Would you try your powers upon that?"»

  The medium took the folded letter, and, leaning back in his chair, he pressed it upon his forehead. He sat with his eyes closed for a minute or more. Then he returned the paper.

  «I don't like it» he said. «I get a feeling of evil. I see a man dressed all in white. He has a dark face. He writes at a bamboo table. I get a sensation of heat. The letter is from the tropics.»

  «Yes, from Central America.»

  «I can tell you no more.»

  «Are the spirits so limited? I thought they knew everything.»

  «They do not know everything. Their power and knowledge are as closely limited as ours. But this is not a matter for the spirit people. What I did then was psychometry, which, so far as we know, is a power of the human soul.»

  «Well, you are right as far as you have gone. This man, my correspondent, wants me to put up the money for the half-share in an oil boring. Shall I do it?»

  Tom Linden shook his head.

  «These powers are given to some of us, sir, for the consolation of humanity and for a proof of immortality. They were never meant for worldly use. Trouble always comes of such use, trouble to the medium and trouble to the client. I will not go into the matter.»

  «Money's no object,» said the man, drawing a wallet from his inner pocket.

  «No, sir, nor to me. I am poor, but I have never ill-used my gift.»

  «A fat lot of use the gift is, then!» said the visitor, rising from his chair. «I can get all the rest from the parsons who are licensed, and you are not. There is your guinea, but I have not had the worth of it.»

  «I am sorry, sir, but I cannot break a rule. There is a lady beside you – near your left shoulder – an elderly lady . . .»

  «Tut! tut!"» said the financier, turning towards the door.

  «She wears a large gold locket with an emerald cross upon her breast.»

  The man stopped, turned and stared.

  «Where did you pick that up?»

  «I see it before me, now.»

  «Why, dash it, man, that is what my mother always wore! D'you tell me you can see her?»

  «No, she is gone.»

  «What was she like? What was she doing?»

  «She was your mother. She said so. She was weeping.»

  «Weeping! My mother! Why, she is in heaven if ever a woman was. They don't weep in heaven!»

  «Not in the imaginary heaven. They do in the real heaven. It is only we who ever make them weep. She left a message.»

  «Give it to me!»

  «The message was: 'Oh, Jack! Jack! you are drifting ever further from my reach'»

  The man made a contemptuous gesture.

  «I was a damned fool to let you have my name when I made the appointment. You have been making inquiries. You don't take me in with your tricks. I've had enough of it – more than enough!»

  For the second time that morning the door was slammed by an angry visitor.

  «He didn't like his message.» Linden explained to his wife. «It was his poor mother. She is fretting over him. Lord! If folk only knew these things it would do them more good than all the forms and ceremonies.»

  «Well, Tom, it's not your fault if they don't,» his wife answered. « There are two women waiting to see you. They have not an introduction but they seem in great trouble.»

  «I've a bit of a headache. I haven't got over last night. Silas and I are the same in that. Our night's work finds us out next morning. I'll just take these and no more, for it is bad to send anyone sorrowin' away if one can help it.»

  The two women were shown in, both of them austere figures dressed in black, one a stern-looking person of fifty, the other about half that age.

  «I believe your fee is a guinea,» said the elder, putting that sum upon the table.

  «To those who can afford it,» Linden answered. As a matter of fact, the guinea often went the other way.

  «Oh yes, I can afford it,» said the woman. «I am in sad trouble and they told me maybe you could help me.»

  «Well, I will if I can. That's what I am for.»

  «I lost my poor husband in the war – killed at Ypres he was. Could I get in touch with him?»

  «You don't seem to bring any influence with you. I get no impression. I am sorry but we can't command these things. I get the name Edmund. Was that his name?»

  «No.»

  «Or Albert?»

  «No.»

  «I am sorry, but it seems confused – cross vibrations, perhaps, and a mix-up of messages like crossed telegraph wires.»

  «Does the name Pedro help you?»

  «Pedro! Pedro! No, I get nothing. Was Pedro an elderly man?»

  «No, not elderly.»

  «I can get no impression.»

  «It was about this girl of mine that I really wanted advice. My husband would have told me what to do. She has got engaged to a young man, a fitter by trade, but there are one or two things against it and I want to know what to do.»

  «Do give us some advice,» said the young woman, looking at the medium with a hard eye.

  «I would if I could, my dear. Do you love this man?»

  «Oh yes, he's all right.»

  «Well, if you don't feel more than that about him, I hould leave him alone. Nothing but unhappiness comes of such a marriage.»

  «Then you see unhappiness waiting for her?»

  «I see a good chance of it. I think she should be careful.»

  «Do you see anyone else coming along?»

  «Everyone, man or woman, meets their mate sometime somewhere.»

  «Then she will get a mate?»

  «Most certainly she will.»

  «I wonder if I should have any family?» asked the girl.

  «Nay, that's more than I can say.»

  «And money – will she have money? We are down hearted, Mr. Linden, and we want a little «

  At this moment there came a most surprising interruption. The door flew open and little Mrs. Linden rushed into the room with pale face and blazing eyes.

  «They are policewomen, Tom. I've had a warning about them. It's only just come. Get out of this house, you pair of snivelling hypocrites. Oh, what a fool! What a fool I was not to recognize what you were.» The two women had risen.

  «Yes, you are rather late, Mrs. Linden,» said the senior. «The money has passed.»

  «Take it back! Take it back! It's on the table.»

  «No, no, the money has passed. We have had our fortune told. You will hear more of this, Mr. Linden.»

  «You brace of frauds! You talk of frauds when it is you who are the frauds all the time! He would not have seen you if it had not been for compassion.»

  «It is no use scolding us,» the woman answered. «We do our duty and we did not make the law. So long as it is on the Statute Book we have to enforce it. We must report the case at headquarters.»

  Tom Linden seemed stunned by the blow, but, when the policewomen had disappeared, he put his arm round his weeping wife and consoled her as best he might.

  «The typist at the police office sent down the warning,» she said. «Oh, Tom, it is the second time!» she cried. «It means gaol and hard labour for you.»

  «Well, dear, so long as we are conscious of having done no wrong and of having done God's work to the best of our power, we must take what comes with a good heart.»

  «But where were they? How could they let you down so? Where was your guide?»

  «Yes, Victor,» said Tom Linden, shaking his head at the air above him, «where were you? I've got a crow to pick with you. You know, dear,» he added, «just as a doctor can never treat his own case, a medium is very helpless when things come to his own address. That's the law. And yet I should have known. I was feeling in the dark. I had no inspiration of any sort. It was just a foolish pity and sympathy that led me on when I had no sort of a real message. Well, dear Mary, we will take what's coming to us wit
h a brave heart. Maybe they have not enough to make a case, and maybe the beak is not as ignorant as most of them. We'll hope for the best.»

  In spite of his brave words the medium was shaking and quivering at the shock. His wife had put her hands upon him and was endeavouring to steady him, when Susan, the maid, who knew nothing of the trouble, admitted a fresh visitor into the room. It was none other than Edward Malone.

  «He can't see you,» said Mrs. Linden, «the medium is ill. He will see no one this morning.»

  But Linden had recognized his visitor.

  «This is Mr. Malone, my dear, of the Daily Gazette. He was with us last night. We had a good sitting, had we not, sir?»

  «Marvellous!» said Malone. «But what is amiss?»

  Both husband and wife poured out their sorrows.

  «What a dirty business!» cried Malone, with disgust.

  «I am sure the public does not realize how this law is enforced, or there would be a row. This agent-provocateur business is quite foreign to British justice. But in any case, Linden, you are a real medium. The law was made to suppress false ones.»

  «There are no real mediums in British law,» said Linden, ruefully. «I expect the more real you are the greater the offence. If you are a medium at all and take money you are liable. But how can a medium live if he does not take money? It's a man's whole work and needs all his strength. You can't be a carpenter all day and a first-class medium in the evening.»

  «What a wicked law! It seems to be deliberately stifling all physical proofs of spiritual power.»

  «Yes, that is just what it is. If the Devil passed a law it would be just that. It is supposed to be for the protection of the public and yet no member of the public has ever been known to complain. Every case is a police trap. And yet the police know as well as you or I that every Church charity garden-party has got its clairvoyante or its fortune-teller.»

  «It does seem monstrous. What will happen now?»

  «Well, I expect a summons will come along. Then a police court case. Then fine or imprisonment. It's the second time, you see.»

  «Well, your friends will give evidence for you and we will have a good man to defend you.»

  Linden shrugged his shoulders.

  «You never know who are your friends. They slip away like water when it comes to the pinch.»

  «Well, I won't, for one,» said Malone, heartily. «Keep me in touch with what is going on. But I called because I had something to ask you.»

  «I am sorry, but I am really not fit.» Linden held out a quivering hand.

  «No, no, nothing psychic. I simply wanted to ask you whether the presence of a strong sceptic would stop all your phenomena?»

  «Not necessarily. But, of course, it makes everything more difficult. If they will be quiet and reasonable we can get results. But they know nothing, break every law, and ruin their own sittings. There was old Sherbank, the doctor, the other day. When the raps came on the table he jumped up, put his hand on the wall, and cried, 'Now then, put a rap on the palm of my hand within five seconds'. Because he did not get it he declared it was all humbug and stamped out of the room. They will not admit that there are fixed laws in this as in everything else.»

  «Well, I must confess that the man I am thinking of might be quite as unreasonable. It is the great Professor Challenger.»

  «Oh, yes, I've heard he is a hard case.»

  «Would you give him a sitting?»

  «Yes, if you desired it.»

  «He won't come to you or to any place you name. He imagines all sorts of wires and contrivances. You might have to come down to his country house.»

  «I would not refuse if it might convert him.»

  «And when?»

  «I can do nothing until this horrible affair is over. It will take a month or two.»

  «Well, I will keep in touch with you till then. When all is well again we shall make our plans and see if we can bring these facts before him, as they have been brought before me. Meanwhile, let me say how much I sympathize. We will form a committee of your friends and all that can will surely be done.»

  7. In Which the Notorious Criminal gets what the British Law Considers to be His Deserts

  BEFORE we pursue further the psychic adventures of our hero and heroine, it would be well to see how the British law dealt with that wicked man, Mr. Tom Linden.

  The two policewomen returned in triumph to Bardley Square Station where Inspector Murphy, who had sent them, was waiting for their report. Murphy was a jolly-looking, red-faced, black-moustached man who had a cheerful, fatherly way with women which was by no means justified by his age or virility. He sat behind his official table, his papers strewn in front of him.

  «Well, girls,» he said as the two women entered, «what luck?»

  «I think it's a go, Mr. Murphy,» said the elder policewoman. «We have the evidence you want.»

  The Inspector took up a written list of questions from his desk.

  «You ran it on the general lines that I suggested?» he asked.

  «Yes. I said my husband was killed at Ypres.»

  «What did he do?»

  «Well, he seemed sorry for me.»

  «That, of course, is part of the game. He'll be sorry for himself before he is through with it. He didn't say, 'You are a single woman and never had a husband?'»

  «No.»

  «Well, that's one up against his spirits, is it not? That should impress the Court. What more?»

  «He felt round for names. They were all wrong.»

  «Good!»

  «He believed me when I said that Miss Bellinger here was my daughter.»

  «Good again! Did you try the Pedro stunt?»

  «Yes, he considered the name, but I got nothing.»

  «Ah, that's a pity. But, anyhow, he did not know that Pedro was your Alsatian dog. He considered the name. That's good enough. Make the jury laugh and you have your verdict. Now about fortune-telling? Did you do what I suggested?»

  «Yes, I asked about Amy's young man. He did not give much that was definite.»

  «Cunning devil! He knows his business.»

  «But he did say that she would be unhappy if she married him.»

  «Oh, he did, did he? Well, if we spread that a little we have got all we want. Now sit down and dictate your report while you have it fresh. Then we can go over it together and see how we can put it best. Amy must write one, also.»

  «Very good, Mr. Murphy.»

  «Then we shall apply for the warrant. You see, it all depends upon which magistrate it comes before. There was Mr. Dalleret who let a medium off last month. He is no we to us. And Mr. Lancing has been mixed up with these people. Mr. Melrose is a stiff materialist. We could depend on him, and have timed the arrest accordingly. It would never do to fail to get our conviction.»

  «Couldn't you get some of the public to corroborate?» The inspector laughed.

  «We are supposed to be protecting the public, but between you and me none of the public have ever yet asked to be protected. There are no complaints. Therefore it is left to us to uphold the law as best we can. As long as it is there we have got to enforce it. Well, good-bye, girls! Let me have the report by four o'clock.»

  «Nothing for it, I suppose?» said the elder woman, with a smile.

  «You wait, my dear. If we get twenty-five pounds fine it has got to go somewhere – Police Fund, of course, but there may be something over. Anyhow, you go and cough it up and then we shall see.»

  Next morning a scared maid broke into Linden's modest study. «Please sir, it's an officer.»

  The man in blue followed hard at her heels.

  «Name of Linden?» said he, and handing a folded sheet of foolscap he departed.

  The stricken couple who spent their lives in bringing comfort to others were sadly in need of comfort themselves. She put her arm round his neck while they read the cheerless document:

  To THOMAS LINDEN of 40, Tullis Street, N.W.

  Information has been laid this
day by Patrick Murphy, Inspector Of Police, that you the said Thomas Linden on the 10th day of November at the above dwelling did profess to Henrietta Dresser and to Amy Bellinger to tell fortunes to deceive and impose on certain of His Majesty's subjects, to wit those above mentioned. You are therefore summoned to appear before the Magistrate of the Police Court in Bardsley Square on Wednesday next, the 17th, at the hour of 11 in the forenoon to answer to the said information.

  Dated the 10th day of November.

  (signed) B.J.WITHERS.

  On the same afternoon Mailey called upon Malone and they sat in consultation over this document. Then they went together to see Summerway Jones, an acute solicitor and an earnest student of psychic affairs. Incidentally, he was a hard rider to hounds, a good boxer, and a man who carried a fresh-air flavour into the mustiest law chambers. He arched his eyebrows over the summons.

  «The poor devil has not an earthly!» said he. «He's lucky to have a summons. Usually they act on a warrant. Then the man is carted right off, kept in the cells all night, and tried next morning with no one to defend him. The police are cute enough, of course, to choose either a Roman Catholic or a materialist as the magistrate. Then, by the beautiful judgment of Chief Justice Lawrence – the first judgment, I believe, that he delivered in that high capacity – the profession of mediumship or wonder-working is in itself a legal crime, whether it be genuine or no, so that no defence founded upon good results has a look in. It's a mixture of religious persecution and police blackmail. As to the public, they don't care a damn! Why should they? If they don't want their fortune told, they don't go. The whole thing is the most absolute bilge and a disgrace to our legislature.»

  «I'll write it up,» said Malone, glowing with Celtic fire.

  «What do you call the Act?»

  «Well, there are two Acts, each more putrid than the other, and both passed long before Spiritualism was ever heard of. There is the Witchcraft Act dating from George the Second. That has become too absurd, so they only use it as a second string. Then there is the Vagrancy Act of 1824. It was passed to control the wandering gipsy folk on the roadside, and was never intended, of course, to be used like this.» He hunted among his papers. «Here is the beastly thing. 'Every person professing to tell fortunes or using any subtle craft, means or device to deceive and impose on any of His Majesty's subjects shall be deemed a rogue and a vagabond', and so on and so forth. The two Acts together would have roped in the whole Early Christian movement just as surely as the Roman persecution did.»